


The Papal Visit

by bluebellsandcocklesshells



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Religious Discussion, Veterinarian!Dean, priest-in-training!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 06:59:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6744142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebellsandcocklesshells/pseuds/bluebellsandcocklesshells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I know nothing about seminary school, and the characters’ conversations about religion is not meant to be social or political commentary; this is merely for entertainment purposes.</p>
    </blockquote>





	The Papal Visit

**Author's Note:**

> I know nothing about seminary school, and the characters’ conversations about religion is not meant to be social or political commentary; this is merely for entertainment purposes.

“Airbnb?” Sam asked.  “What’s that?” 

“It’s an app.” 

“Of course,” Sam muttered, now more concerned than amused by his brother’s app addiction.  “What’s it do?” he asked with faux interest as he looked through Dean’s drawer of K-cup coffee selections. 

“It’s a way to find people who are willing to let you crash at their place for cheaper than a hotel but less skeevier than a hostel.” 

“Less skeevier than a hostel?  Who in their right mind would trust a total stranger over a hostel?”

 “You take Uber everywhere, dude,” Dean reminded him as he sat down at the small table crammed into the corner of his tiny kitchen. 

“That’s different,” Sam said unconvincingly.  “They have to, like, register and stuff.”

 “You do on this app too.  Valid email, phone number, and a scan of a government issued photo ID.”

 “People can fake those.  Or steal them.”

 “True.  But people can fake car inspection documentation too.”

“You’re nuts,” Sam declared and inserted a dark roast K-cup into Dean’s coffee maker.  If Dean hadn’t spent so much on all the electronics (TV, sound system, laptop, whatever) he’d probably be able to afford a nicer apartment.

 “There are Airbnb locations in tens of thousands of cities in dozens of countries.  You should use it to go do that end of college backpack through Europe thing.  They have to feed you breakfast too.”

“I’ll pass on the murder, thanks.  Where are you going?”

 “Oh.  I’m not going anywhere.  I’m going to be a host.”

 “Okay, I know you live near DC, but there are reasonably priced hotels just as far away as you are.  How much are you charging?  Twenty-five?  That will barely cover the cost of breakfast and the quarters for the laundry to wash the sheets and towels they use.”

 “You’re not thinking big enough, Sammy.  Of course it makes no sense to offer a place to stay on any ol’ regular day.”

 Sam turned to face him.  “So…your brilliant plan is…?”

 Dean grinned, like he was proud that Sam thought his plan was brilliant.  “The Pope.  The Head Honcho of the Good God Fearing Catholics of the world is coming to DC for a visit and to give a sermon or two.”

 “Unh-huh…” Sam said, picking up his full coffee cup and blowing on it.

 “And hotels have been booked for months.  He’s only visiting three cities on the east coast, so everyone is flocking over here.  And Sam, ‘there is no room at the inn.’”  He grinned again.

 “Please don’t tell me you’re gouging some nice people who just want to come see the Pope by making them sleep on that crappy air mattress in the living room.”

 “He can sleep on the couch.  Either or.”

 “How much are you charging?”

 Dean shrugged.  “Not that much.”

 “How much are you charging?”

 “Not as much as some other people.”

 Sam stalked the three steps it took him to cross the small kitchen.  “ _Dean_.  How much are you charging?”

 “A thousand dollars.”

“A thou—!”

 “Per night.”

 “Per night?!  Dean!  These people are coming to see the _Pope_!  Have you no shame?”

 “No strong belief in an afterlife at least.  Besides, the guy can afford it otherwise he wouldn’t be doing it.”

 “One, you don’t know that.  Two, you already hooked some sucker?”

 “Well, yeah.  Pope’s comin’ on Tuesday.”

 “Who is it?” Sam asked, slumping into a rickety chair across from Dean.

 “Oh, man, you will not believe this name.  It’s gotta be something religious.  Um…”  Dean scrolled through his phone for a moment.  “Castiel.  Apparently he’s in seminary school.  Gonna become a priest.  They had a lottery at his school of who got to go to New York because they had reserved some rooms.  He didn’t make the cut.  So, he looked for other opportunities, and I am here to provide.”

 “Yeah…you’re going to put up a priest-in-training?”

 “Yep.”

 “Please don’t leave porn out just to mess with him.”

“I’m not going to do anything.  I’m just going to get paid, let the guy crash on my couch, feed him breakfast, and then go to work while he goes and has himself a spiritual experience.  When you think about it, I’m doing God’s work here, Sammy.  Helping one of his flock go see his human mouthpiece.” 

“‘God’s work.’  I don’t recall God charging a thousand dollars to hear him talk.” 

“No, he just made people think who he was talking to was crazy by appearing to him in a freaking burning bush.  Like, kind of a dick move on God’s part if you ask me.” 

Sam rolled his eyes.  “You’re unbelievable.”  Sam sat up and put out a warning hand.  “Don’t—” 

“Ohh!”  Dean sang out and started humming EMF’s “Unbelievable.” 

“I hate you,” Sam muttered. 

~~~ 

Dean turned down the volume on his TV; he thought he’d heard something.  He waited, but the sound didn’t come again.  He turned the TV back up.  After a moment he muted it.   He narrowed his eyes at the door.  He waited again, and then he definitely heard someone knocking. 

Griping to himself he heaved his body out of the sag in the couch and walked to the door, scratching his chest and vowing to punch Sam in the nuts if he was here to cry about Jess again.  As best as he could remember, they were currently “on,” but who knows if tonight they were back to “off.”  He opened the door, annoyed scowl in place, but who he found was not his brother.  It was some dude with greasy hair, bags under his eyes, hollow cheeks, a small bag slung over the shoulder of a faded black shirt, and a slightly ripe odor wafting off of him.  Ah…there was also a white clerical collar in the top of his shirt. 

“Castiel?” Dean asked, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. 

“Yes, I’m Castiel Novak.  You’re Dean Winchester, correct?” 

“Yes.”

 Castiel stuck out a hand.  Dean shook it tentatively, aware that he was probably contracting all kinds of germs. 

“I’m sorry, I know I wasn’t supposed to arrive until tomorrow, at least that’s what the bus schedule said, but I couldn’t spend another night in a bus station, so I took the next bus and I got here now and I know it’s late and I can’t afford another thousand, but I do have two hundred and I don’t need breakfast for tomorrow and—” 

“Whoa, whoa,” Dean cut the man off.  He’d kind of missed part of that because the man’s deep, gravelly voice had surprised him.  “Come inside and take a load off, buddy.  What about sleeping in a bus station?” 

Castiel stepped inside and wearily set his bag on the floor.  Dean shut the door and started when he found that Castiel hadn’t stepped farther into the room and was staring into his eyes from about a foot and a half away.  He had blue eyes.  Like,  _blue_  eyes.

 “I came here from northern California.” 

“By bus?!” 

“Yes, the Greyhound.  I had several layovers, one of which was an overnight in Denver, and I couldn’t sleep because I was worried people would try to steal from me.  I know I should have more faith in mankind—” 

“No,” Dean interrupted.  “You shouldn’t.” 

Castiel gave him a mild look.  “Anyway, I’ve barely slept in over seventy-two hours and I couldn’t stand the thought of spending the night in Pittsburgh, so I came down hoping I could stay here for an extra night.  But like I said, I don’t have—” 

“Seventy-two hours?  Shit, man, you can trust your fellow man enough to sleep on the bus.” 

“I get motion sick,” Castiel said pitifully. 

“Of course you do.  Is the Pope worth all this hassle?” 

Castiel smiled.  “It’s not a hassle.  It’s more like a test.  God issues them to the people He knows can weather them.” 

“Sure, sure.  Explains the suicide rate,” Dean said flatly. 

Castiel’s expression crumbled and he looked down, probably trying to hide his annoyance and anger since a priest probably wasn’t supposed to feel those things. 

“Sorry,” Dean said.  “Look, you can stay the night.  Free of charge.” 

“I can?” Castiel asked, looking as surprised as Dean felt by his own offer. 

“Yeah.  Barely nothing of the night left anyway.  I’m also gonna throw in a free shower because, dude, you could really use one.” 

Castiel chuckled.  “I apologize for my offensive odor.  It’s been a long four days.”

 “I bet.  Well, the bathroom’s through there.  I’ll get you a towel and then set up the air mattress.  If you’re hungry, I think Pizza Hut might still be delivering.”

 “Oh, thank you, but I ate when the bus stopped in Baltimore.  I suspect after I shower, I will just be ready to sleep.  Of course, you may continue to watch your…television program…”

 Dean looked at the screen.  Dr. Sexy was getting mighty freaky with Nurse Piccolo in a supply closet.  Dean darted across the room and grabbed the remote.  He switched the TV off and for the first time wondered how something that raunchy could air on network television.  He looked back at the aspiring priest, cheeks feeling a little warm.  The man just had a look of bemusement on his face.

 “Uh, bathroom’s that way.”

 “Yes, thank you.”

 Dean supplied Castiel with a towel, wash cloth, and permission to use any of the cleansing products he liked, and then he grumbled to himself as he dug the air mattress out of the closet.  Stupid priests.  Making him feel guilty about something that totally wasn’t worth feeling guilty about.  He wished now he’d been in the middle of watching porn.   _Gay_ porn. That would’ve shown him. 

When Castiel emerged from the shower, wearing a fitted T-shirt and yoga pants, Dean was lying in the middle of the air mattress, listening for the leak.  He actually felt his mouth drop open at the sight of the priest wannabe.  He’d had no idea that body was under that baggy clothing.  And it was a nice body: not slender or muscular, but toned and broad.  Broad across the shoulders, broad across the hips.  His hair was in that drying stage that left it sticking up wildly, much better than flat and greasy.  He’d shaved and he looked refreshed—which made him look much younger.  This guy was fuckin’ hot and it was a crime against God to demand that he be celibate.

 “Uh…hey.”

 “Hi.  The water pressure in your show is amazing.  At the seminary it’s barely a trickle.  And we’re only supposed to take three minute showers.”

 Dean glanced at the clock and then shot a smirk at Castiel.  “That was longer than three minutes.”

 Castiel ducked his head.  “I know.  But it felt so good…”

 It was on the tip of Dean’s tongue to ask him if he’d jerked off, but he did have some notion of decency.

 “So, is the air mattress your bed?  And I’ll be on the couch?”

 “Wha—?  Oh, no.  There’s a hole in it and I’m trying to listen for it so I can patch it.  Hey, go run your hands around the edges and see if you feel anything.”

 Castiel obediently walked over to the mattress and crouched down to place his hand near the glorified pool raft.  He moved around the mattress, and Dean kept his head cocked to listen for a hissing noise.  When Castiel knelt on one corner to reach the far side, Dean heard the hiss by his ear.

 “Oh!  Over here!”

 “Where?”

 “By my head!”

 Castiel moved with cat-like agility and flung himself across Dean to move his hand around by Dean’s head.  Then he smiled and looked down at Dean, whatever he’d been about to say dying on his lips as their eyes met from less than three inches away.  Castiel’s knees were on either side of Dean’s body and they were pressed chest to chest.

 “Do you feel anything?” Dean asked softly.

 “Um…”  Castiel turned an alarming shade of red.

 “Air.  Do you feel air,” Dean clarified, and shifted his hips so that his forming erection was nowhere near his floundering house guest.

 “Oh, um, yes.  It’s right here.”

 “Okay, put your finger on it and let me slide out.”

 Castiel scrambled to the floor, but kept his finger in place.  Dean used the patch that came with the air mattress kit to cover the leak.  He turned on the motor to pump the bed back up with air, the loud whirring removing any need for them to speak to each other.  When it was plumped up again, Dean removed the motor and plugged it with the cap.  He walked to the linen closet and got out a set of sheets and a pillow, which he then tossed onto the bed.

 “You, uh, want some help putting those on?”

 “N-no,” Castiel said, refusing to make eye contact.  “I can do it, thank you.”

 “Okay.  Well, I’ve got to leave for work at seven tomorrow morning.  I can give you a ride to the metro if you’d like.”

 “Oh, yes.  That sounds better than the four buses I planned on taking to get downtown.”

 He still wouldn’t look up.  Geez.  It wouldn’t be so awkward if Castiel wouldn’t make it so awkward.

 “Alright.  Sleep tight.  Mi casa es su casa.”

 “Thank you, Dean.”

 “Yeah…”

 Dean went into his room and changed quickly into boxers and a T-shirt.  He decided he wouldn’t bother to read or watch TV.  He’d just get under the covers and go to sleep.  Like a good person.  He definitely was not going to jerk off to thoughts of some hot guy who wanted to be a priest who was sleeping in his living room.  Definitely not.  That was just wrong.

 But wrong for whom?  Dean wasn’t Catholic.  Good point.  Dean threw off the covers and stuck his hands down his shorts.  If he was going to hell, this would certainly be towards the end of a long list of reasons why anyway.

 ~~~

 Dean checked the noodles in the boiling water.  They were probably on the overdone side of al dente, but he didn’t like al dente pasta anyway.  He dumped the contents of the pot into a colander in the sink and then stuck the garlic bread to toast under the broiler.  He was giving the sauce he’d made a few final stirs when he heard the knock at the door.

 Dean scooted over to the door and opened it to reveal Castiel, once again looking a little bedraggled, but much happier than he had yesterday.  He was smiling and had a weird shine to his eyes.  Almost like he was crying, but not.

 “Dude, are you high?”

 Castiel laughed.  “High on God’s love.”

 “Oh, good Lord.”

 “Exactly.”

 Dean rolled his eyes, annoyed that he was smiling at Castiel’s goofiness.

 “Well come in.  I hope you’re hungry.  I made spaghetti.  Oo!  Speaking of which…”

 Dean ran back to the kitchen to take his sauce off the stove.

 “I thought the Airbnb only covered breakfast.”

 “Are you saying you don’t want any?”

 “Didn’t say that at all,” Castiel said as he leaned on the wall of the kitchen and watched Dean.

 Dean poured the sauce directly from the pot into the large bowl he’d put the pasta in.  He tossed it around a bit and then held out the spoon he’d been cooking with to Castiel.  He took it and licked the sauce off the back and Dean looked away.  That was a very pink tongue.

 “Mm.  This is good.  Is this Ragu or Progresso?”

 “Shut your mouth.  It’s not canned.  I made it myself.”

 “Impressive.”

 “Damn straight.  You want something to drink?  I got water or beer or…water.”

 “Water, please.”

 “Mm-hmm.  Don’t you guys drink wine?  And like, make beer?”

 “Monks make beer.  But they don’t drink it.”

 Dean snorted.  “Sure they don’t.  Get a trivet out of that drawer, would ya?”

 “Sure.”

Dean carried the bowl of pasta, the tray of bread with an oven mitt on one hand, and his beer tucked into the crook of his arm to the table.  Fortunately it was only three steps.  If it had been four he wouldn’t have made it.  Castiel arrived just in time to slide the trivet under the hot tray of bread.

 “I could have helped carry something.”

 “Sorry, just habit.  Living alone and all.”

“Hmm.  I can’t imagine it.”

 He sat down at the table and put his napkin in his lap.  Dean did a double take.  He had napkins?  Apparently, since Castiel had brought one for him too.  He didn’t put it in his lap though. 

“I grew up in a large family,” Castiel continued.  “Brothers and sisters both older and younger, so I never knew a house without at least two other kids around.  In college I lived with other students in dorms, and at seminary we live in dorms.  Do you like it?  Is it fun?  Or do you find it lonely?” 

“Being alone and being lonely are two different things, Cas.  I see my family often, I work, I have friends.  It’s nice to come home and not have to worry about someone being in my space.  Not have to have someone wrinkle their nose and make faces when you fart or burp.” 

Castiel huffed out a laugh as he slurped up some noodles, the end of one bouncing off the fork and hitting him in the nose.  Dean bit his lip to hide his smile as Castiel wiped off the tip with his napkin.  This guy was alternately too hot and too adorable to be the same person let alone a priest.

 “So.  How was the Pope?”

 “It was amazing!” Castiel suddenly gushed.  “I was glad you had dropped me off early so that I could get to the parade route early, but I think people had camped out overnight!  There were so many people there already.  The parade wasn’t until 11:00, but I was still three or four people back.  But, someone noticed my collar, and offered me a spot up front.  I felt guilty about taking it…”

 “But you did,” Dean stated as he crunched into his garlic toast with an obnoxious smile.

 “I did,” Castiel said, opening his bottled water.  “It was worth it.  I made eye contact with him.  He waved at me.”

 Dean snickered.  “You sound like my brother fangirling over N’Sync when he was kid.”

 “That’s a musical group, right?”

 “Well, that’s a matter of one’s definition of music.  So, you flirted with the Pope and—”

 “I didn’t _flirt_ with the Pope.  I waved to him.  Then I made my way over to St. Matthew’s for the midday prayer.  Some people had skipped the parade and gone directly there, so I didn’t get close that time.  But they had speakers and a screen set up.  It was amazing to hear him give a blessing live.”  Castiel cocked his head.  “Well, sort of live.  Anyway, then I went directly to the Basilica, and I don’t know if someone mistook me for being a priest from there, but I was ushered inside and no one would listen when I said I was just a guest.  So, I wound up having a pretty decent seat for when he gave mass at 4:15.”

 “Wait, how long was the blessing?”

 “Not that long.  I had a long wait at the Basilica.”

 “Did you eat lunch?”

 “No.  I didn’t feel hungry most of the day, so I didn’t think about it.  I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I got back here and smelled your cooking.  Could I…have seconds?”

 “Help yourself.  I guess you were just full on God’s love.”

 Castiel gave him another look as he forked more spaghetti onto his plate.  Apparently Dean’s light jabs at his religion didn’t bother him that much.

 “So.  A parade, a blessing, and then mass.  Sounds like…an exciting day.”

 “Oh, it really was.  I felt moved to be with all those people and to hear Pope Francis speak.  He is an amazing man.  He has done more to make the Church recognize that it should celebrate life and God’s love for everyone than anyone has in a long time.  People are embracing Catholicism again, and it has a lot to do with him.”

 “And probably the fact that he’s told people to stop being dicks to people that don’t think exactly like they do.”

 “Yes, I believe that is another way of phrasing what I just said.”

 Dean smiled and took a swig of his beer.  “So.  Good day then.  Are you…uh…leaving for home in the morning?”

 “No, not until Friday.  Oh, I thought I had requested two nights.  He’s going to be appearing at the Capitol and St. Patrick’s tomorrow.  I had hoped that I could…”

 “Oh, right, yeah, sorry.  It’s no problem.  I just forgot last night wasn’t one of the nights.”

 “Ah…are you sure it’s okay that I stayed last night for free?  I should probably go ahead and transfer the rest of the payment to your account now.  If you wouldn’t mind if I borrow your computer?”

 Dean waved him off.  “Don’t worry about it now.  And you can do it from your phone, you know.  You don’t need a computer.”

 Castiel smiled.  “I don’t own a cell phone.”

 “What?” Dean asked in surprise.  Yeah he wasn’t attached at the hip to his phone like Sam was, but he _had_ a phone.

 “We don’t have a need for possessions like that in seminary,” said Castiel.  “We have one computer that we have to ask for permission to use.”

 “How did you find Airbnb then?  It’s an app.  For a phone.”

 “It’s also a website.  It came up when I was searching for alternatives to hotels for my visit.”

 “Hm.  How did you decide on me?”

 “I liked your face.”

 “Wh-what?”  Dean took another sip of beer to try to cool off said face.

 “In your profile.  Your picture.  You have kind eyes.”

 “Yeah, okay.”  Dean picked up their dishes and carried them to the sink so he wouldn’t have to keep looking at Castiel.

 “Why did you decide to accept me as a guest?” Castiel asked, carrying over the mostly empty pasta bowl and bread tray.

 “Well, you know, figured I could trust a priest.”

 “But I’m not a priest.  Not yet.  I haven’t taken my orders.”

 “So…” Dean trailed off as he began rinsing the dishes and putting them in the dishwasher.  “You could still…not be a priest.”

 “Yes, I suppose that’s true.  If I ever felt my calling weaken, I could not take my orders.”

 Dean looked up and met his eyes, their hands brushing as Castiel passed him the other plate.  Dean’s eyes flitted over Castiel’s face, down to his full lips and back up again.  He cleared his throat and returned to washing dishes.  Castiel wiped down the table and dried the dishes in the dish rack.

 In order to abate the slightly awkward silence, Dean asked, “So, if you’re not a priest yet, why do you wear the collar?”

 “It’s common for seminarians to wear it once they have been accepted to candidacy for priesthood.”

 “And you have been?”

 “Yes.  This is my last year.  I should graduate in the spring, and then I will take my orders.”

“Unless you don’t.”

 “Un-unless I don’t.”

 Dean stopped talking, and they fell into a somewhat strained silence again.  When they were finished cleaning the kitchen, Castiel announced he was going to take a shower and Dean nodded.  Then he leaned against the counter once Castiel was out of the room.

  _This is fucked up, Winchester.  Even for you.  Knock it off._

 Dean changed into sweats and a T-shirt and then plopped down on the couch.  The air mattress was rolled up into the corner, but it was too early for bed.  He turned on the TV and twenty minutes later Castiel joined him.

 “I’m gonna have to start charging you for water,” Dean said.

 “I think your fee has it cover-erd!” Castiel squeaked softly as he pitched to the left in the sagging couch.

 “Yeah.  I might need a new one,” Dean said, smiling as Castiel struggled to right himself.

 They wound up sitting right next to each other in the sag, not pressed obscenely close together, but a nice, pleasant pressure against thigh and shoulder.  Dean flipped through the channels, trying to find something that wasn’t totally objectionable.  He finally settled on the Food Network, figuring it was wholesome enough programing.

 Fifteen minutes into an episode of _Cupcake Wars_ , Cas said blithely, “You don’t need to adjust your viewing habits on my account.  I won’t faint at the sight of bare ankles.”

 Dean laugh-snorted.  “I would never presume to think you couldn’t handle whatever _test_ God throws at you, no matter how salacious.”

 “I just meant that I grew up in modern America too.  Just because I’m studying to become a priest doesn’t mean I don’t know about sex or that I view it as this abomination before God.  Obviously, it’s not, otherwise God would have made us able to reproduce asexually like amoeba.”

 “Yeah, so God thinks sex is a good thing to get people to go forth and multiply or whatever, but don’t you think it’s weird that he’s got a bunch of weird rules?  Like you can’t do it this way, you can’t do it with this person, you can’t do it with yourself.”

 “Actually, the _Bible_ doesn’t say anything about masturbation.”

 “Is that so?”

 “There’s a passage in Genesis that mentions a man wasting his semen rather than impregnating his dead brother’s widow—”

 “Whaaaaaaaat?”

 “Oh, yes. More people should read the _Bible_ ; it’s practically a telenovela.”

 Dean raised an eyebrow and smirked, but didn’t comment on the aspiring priest’s blasphemous statement.

 “Anyway, a lot of people interpret ‘wasting semen’ as being a sin worthy of being put to death—”

 “Wait a minute, God killed a dude because he wouldn’t bang his dead brother’s wife?”

Castiel shrugged.  “It was the Old Testament.  He was a cruel, jealous god at that time; He described Himself as such.  But when Jesus came along, He changed His tune.  I suppose the birth of one’s first child can have that effect on most anyone.”

 “But I thought Jesus _was_ God.”

 “He is.”

 “But he’s also the ‘son.’”

 “Yes.”

 “No offense, bro, but your religion is fucked up.”

 “It’s a religion based on a text that was written by men who lived a hundred years after Christ’s resurrection.  Of course there are discrepancies.  However, the important thing is the message of love and salvation, which is a reward for those who live their life piously.”

 “Yeah…it’s that ‘piously’ part where it loses me.  Like, you can eat bacon but if two dudes get it on they deserve to die and go to hell.”

 “Hmm.  Well, anyone who believes in Christ knows that when he died for our sins, it was also to absolve us of our need to obey the archaic laws.  It’s why we can eat bacon and shellfish and cut our hair.”

 “And Jews can’t.”

 “Well…shouldn’t, I suppose.  I have read the _Talmud_ and the _Quran_ as well.  I meditated on God for some time when I was a teenager.  One day…I felt Christ’s love infuse me with his joy and compassion and his will to serve the poor and the needy. That’s when I knew I’d felt my calling and that I should enter the priesthood.”

 Dean stared at Castiel’s profile.  He looked resolute, but also like he’d be just as beautiful on his knees with a cock in his mouth.  Dean shook his head. _Uncalled for._

 “Well, I spent most of my time as a teenager jerking off, so…I guess God skipped me.”

 Castiel grinned and looked at him.  “God doesn’t ‘skip’ or ‘overlook’ anyone.  He had a different plan for you.”

 Dean glanced around his old, cramped apartment.  “This is what he had planned for me?  Geez.  What I’d ever do to him?”

 Castiel shrugged.  “I don’t know…charged a seminary student two thousand dollars to sleep on a crappy air mattress so that he could see the Pope?”

 Dean laughed and nudged Castiel.  He nudged him back.

 “Fine, fine!” Dean said.  “The deposit is enough.”

 “If you were really doing God’s work, you’d let me stay for free.”

 “I am feeding you, buddy.”

 “That’s true.  And I’m providing you with valuable _Bible_ lessons.” 

“Mm-hmm.  Hey. How come the story of Job is considered to be a story about how God defeated the devil?”

 “Because it is.  Nothing could cause Job to turn away from his loyalty to God.  The devil was wrong: a man doesn’t love God because he feels blessed by him, but because he believes in his goodness and the reward of eternal paradise for living a pious life.”

 “Yeah, but…really, didn’t the devil just trick God into torturing one of his most devoted followers?  Seems to me like the devil came out on top in that one.”

 Castiel turned so he could look at him fully.  He looked perplexed, and sad.  “I never thought of it that way.”

 They stared at each other in silence for several moments.  Dean swallowed, forced his eyes to stay up on Castiel’s and not drift to his lips, his neck, anywhere lower.

 “What are you thinking, Dean?”

 “Wh-why do priests have to be celibate?”

 Castiel didn’t laugh.  “Because being a priest isn’t a profession; it a perpetual and sacred vocation. That means that we don’t have ‘off hours.’  Our constant devotion to our calling is symbolized by celibacy.”

 “I see.  Seems kind of like a bummer though.  Convenient way to hide if you’re gay, I guess.”

 Castiel sighed and turned his head.  The spell broken, Dean looked back to see the tower of one thousand cupcakes on screen with a _Wizard of Oz_ theme.

 “It seems odd to hide in the clergy for being gay,” Castiel said.  “The only place it’s mentioned to be a sin in the _Bible_ is the Old Testament, which we’ve already determined has been rendered moot by Christ’s sacrifice.  Hence, why bacon wrapped scallops are one of my favorite foods.”

 Dean chuckled.

 “Other than that, there’s a passage in Kings which mentions male prostitute shrines being detestable or an abomination, but it seems more likely the passage is referring to the occupation of prostitution in general rather than the fact that it was men sleeping with men.  And of course, Jesus Himself never had a word to say on the matter.”

 “Dude who never got married and hung out with twelve other dudes all the time?  Yeah. I’d say he didn’t have a problem with it.”

 Castiel sighed exaggeratedly and rolled his eyes.  “I guess that’s better than being one of the Mary Magdalene conspiracy theorists.”

 Dean laughed and pretended like he didn’t notice that he’d started to lean more heavily against Castiel.  He also pretended not to notice that Castiel started leaning back.

When Dean’s laughter finally died down, Castiel asked, “What do you believe in, Dean?”

Dean exhaled in a long breath and stared at the woman who began crying when she was named the victor of _Cupcake Wars_.

 “I believe in what I know to be true, Cas.”

 “And that would be?”

 “My brother will always have my back.  My parents are flawed, but they love me, which is more than some people can say.  And I can sink an eight ball snookered behind two enemy balls with five hundred dollars riding on the line.”

 “Now gambling,” Castiel mused, his head somehow resting against the top of Dean’s, “that _is_ a sin.”

 “It’s not gambling when I’m playing, baby.  I’m a sure thing.”

Castiel chuckled.  And then went very still.  Then he sat up and smoothed his hands down his legs.

 “I’m quite tired.  And I assume we need to leave at the same time tomorrow morning.  Would you mind if I got the air mattress ready?”

 “Yeah, sure, go ahead,” Dean said, trying to hide his disappointment. “Need help?”

“I believe I can manage.”

“Alright then.  Guess I’ll turn in too.  See you in the morning, Cas.”

“Goodnight, Dean.”

~~~

“Dude, you are so cracked,” Sam laughed over the phone.  “I can’t believe you’re hot for a priest. That’s like being hot for your teacher.  Such a cliché.”

“Shut it, asshole.  It’s not like it’s a fetish for the outfit.  It’s just the guy.”

 “You’ve known him two days.”

 “Dude, I didn’t say I was in love with him, I just said that he’s hot and totally off limits.”

 “Yeah, just as long as you remember that last part.”

 “He’s not actually a priest yet, you know.  Technically he hasn’t taken his vows or his orders.”

 “Dean.  Don’t be that guy.”

 “What guy?  Captain von Trapp?”

 “No, skeevy.  And oh my God.  You just referenced _The Sound of Music_.”

 “Um…no I didn’t.”

 “Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn’t.  Oh, look, Cas is back, gotta go!”

“No, he’s not—!”

Dean hung up the phone and rolled his eyes at annoying little brothers.  He went into the kitchen to begin preparing dinner.  Castiel had said that the Pope’s last engagement would be over by early afternoon, so he would be home a little earlier, even though with the flood of people on the metro it would still probably take a couple of hours to get back. Dean worked a short ten minute drive from his apartment, so he was able to avoid the crush of traffic made worse by the major event in town.  He also may have left work early.

 He left the door open for Castiel, but the man still knocked. He smiled at Dean, looking flush with divine rapture again.

 “Good day?”

 “Fantastic,” Castiel said dreamily.  “Pope Francis is a truly amazing man.”

 “I thought he wasn’t really a man,” said Dean as he shut the door. “But like, some sort of god on earth kind of deal.”

 “No, no.  Not a god.  When he makes a decree ‘ex cathedra,’ which means when he declares something to be true while sitting in Peter the Apostle’s throne, he is infallible.”

 “Right.  Because that doesn’t sound like random jibber-jabber.”

 “You can’t ruin my good mood.  I saw the Pope twice, I felt moved by the Holy Spirit, and I can smell bacon. What are you cooking?”

 “Uh…”  Dean suddenly felt embarrassed by his impulse buy at the grocery store.  He rubbed the back of his neck with a hand.  “Mashed potatoes.  And asparagus.”

 “And…?”

 “And bacon wrapped scallops.”

 Dean could feel himself blushing and felt like he was way too fucking old to be blushing about making a cute boy his favorite food.  Castiel stopped moving toward the kitchen and looked at Dean.  He stared at him for half an hour. Maybe ten seconds, but it felt really long.

 “I see now what God’s real test for me is,” Castiel murmured.

 Dean inhaled sharply.  He wondered briefly if he should respond to that, but he couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t be dangerously presumptive.

“Um.  Dinner won’t be ready for another ten minutes or so.  So.  You can wash up or relax or whatever.”

 “Thank you.  I’ll use the restroom, and then I’ll set the table.”

 “Thanks.”

 Dean was worried dinner might be awkward, but conversation was easy. They talked about what they did that day—Castiel mostly stood around waiting for the Pope to arrive to make his speeches and blessings and then shuffled through throngs of crowds while Dean spayed and neutered three kittens and a puppy, performed wellness checkups on three dogs, two very ornery cats, a rabbit, a gerbil that was really a hamster, and he had to put down an eighteen year old cocker spaniel. 

Later when they were sitting together on the saggy couch, Dean turned his head toward Castiel and asked, “So, do you really believe dogs don’t go to heaven?” 

Castiel looked back at him, their faces close together where they rested on the back of the couch.  “Animals don’t have souls.  That is a condition unique to mankind, gifted by God.”

“Gifted by God?  Isn’t it just because Eve fucked everything up by eating the apple?” 

“No.  That simply allowed mankind to become self-aware.  If ever there was a cautionary tale about trying to develop an AI that could be become self-aware, I would direct people to the rise of man.”

“That’s pretty cynical.”

 “We all have our vices.”

 “But if heaven is supposed to be…heaven…why can’t people see their favorite pets?  People love them like family members.  What kind of heaven is it if you can’t see everyone you love?”

“I think the problem is that everyone thinks of heaven as a physical location.  Like when they die, they’ll still look like themselves in their bodies and go to this place where their favorite places and people are.  I don’t think heaven is a place.  The soul has no physical properties.  When the soul enters heaven, it enters a state of eternal peace and fulfillment.  That doesn’t mean you get to relive high school and this time you don’t get pantsed when trying to climb the rope in gym class.”

Dean was trying to contemplate a non-corporeal sense of existence, but then he processed Castiel’s sentence.  He snorted.  And then laughed.

“Aw, Cas, did you get pantsed in gym class?”

 “Halfway up the rope,” he sighed with irritation.  “There was a really tall kid in my class who could jump really high.  And you know you wore those nylon shorts with the big elastic waistbands in gym, right?  So they came right off!”

Dean broke out into a fit of laughter and slapped at Castiel’s arm.

“It’s not that funny.” 

“Yeah, it is.  Is that why you decided to become a priest?  Did you get such terrible rope burn on your dick that you couldn’t ever touch it again so you figured if you had to be celibate you might as well be spiritual about it?” 

“ _No_.  My calling was a deeply profound moment in my life.” 

“How deep?” Dean snickered. 

“You are very immature and—” Castiel couldn’t get out the rest of his admonishment because he was laughing too hard.  “This is not the kind of conversation I expected after enjoying one of the most spiritual days of my life! You are menace.” 

“I’m adorable.” 

“No comment.” 

They settled down eventually, and found themselves so far in the sag they were practically in each other’s laps. 

“So, what time do you have to leave tomorrow?” 

“Well, my bus ticket isn’t until 1:00, but I assume I will need to leave when you do since I don’t have a key.” 

“Oh.  Well, it seems stupid to come all this way across the country to DC and not see any of the sites.” 

“But the reason I came for—” 

“Yeah, yeah.  Pope. But now you should go to the Museum of Natural History and learn about evolution.” 

“I believe in evolution,” Castiel griped. 

“Isn’t that against Catholic law or something?” 

“Pope Francis believes in evolution.” 

“Does he?  Reasonable guy, I guess.  Anyway, you should stay.  Tomorrow everyone will be trying to get out of town; it’ll be a mess.  Just go visit some sites, and Saturday I’ll be off work so I can show you around some places. Sunday too.  You can stay as long as you like.  I don’t mind the company.” 

“Perhaps being alone and lonely aren’t so different after all.”

“Maybe only certain people can make you feel lonely when they’re gone.” 

“Ah…” 

Dean stared straight ahead at the episode of _Chopped_ airing.  Castiel shifted beside him, but didn’t pull away. 

“I could stay a few days.  Classes are suspended until the Pope finishes his American visit so that everyone has a chance to either watch him on TV or travel to New York or DC or Philadelphia to see him.” 

“You guys have real classes?” 

“Of course.  I’m enrolled in a Master’s program.” 

“What will it be in?” 

“A Master of Divinity.” 

“Damn.  That sounds…vaguely ominous.” 

Castiel huffed a small laugh, and Dean could feel his breath tickle his hair.  He must be turned in toward him, almost snuggling him. 

“So you can stay?” 

“Yes, for a couple of days.” 

“Awesome.” 

~~~ 

Sunday afternoon, Castiel stood with his packed bag at Dean’s door, about to head out to the bus stop which would take him to Union Station where he could catch the bus that would drive him back out of the city. 

“I can drop you off at the metro, Cas,” Dean said again. 

“Thank you, Dean, but you’ve been more than hospitable and I can’t impose further.” 

“It’s not an imposition if someone is offering.  Or, you don’t have to go at all.  You can stay longer.  Cas, I…these past few days have been…I mean, I just enjoy your company.  I like talking to you.” 

Castiel had his hand on the doorknob, but his arm was twisted awkwardly because he was facing Dean—who had stepped very close to him.  Every accidental-non accidental touch they’d shared over the past few days had built up a charge between them that was bound to snap if they just touched one more time… 

“Dean…I would actually like nothing more, to my dismay, than to stay here with you a little bit longer, but, I just don’t think I can give to you what you want from me.” 

Dean shook his head and took a step closer.  “Don’t need that,” he mumbled. “Just, want you to stay so we can talk.  And hang out.  And…that’s all.  I swear.” 

They were so close now they were breathing each other’s air.  Castiel gave in first and wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck, bringing their lips together in a long, static kiss.  When Castiel pulled back, Dean shook his head. 

“Don’t have to.  We don’t—” 

“Shut up, Dean.  Take me to bed.” 

Castiel hopped up and wrapped his legs around Dean’s waist, Dean’s hands reflexively grabbing his ass.  They kissed as Dean stumbled awkwardly toward his bedroom.  They crashed onto the bed and when Castiel let out a small sound at the impact, Dean came to his senses.  He started to pull back. 

“Cas, wait, we shouldn’t.  You’re not—” 

“Dean, it’s okay.  I want this.  Please.” 

“But, I mean, in this crappy apartment?  I mean the bed is awesome, cost me a fortune, but a quick desperate screw because we’re not ready to part ways yet?  That can’t—” 

“Okay,” Castiel said, propping himself up on one elbow.  “One, even if this is quick and dirty, I’m not going to run out the door.  We can do it slow and proper next time.” 

“Next time?” Dean asked weakly, his heart fluttering like a flag in a hurricane. 

“Two, I’m not a virgin, so this wouldn’t be my first time if that’s what your whole ‘we can’t do it here like this’ speech was about.” 

“Not—?” 

“And three, if you don’t stop talking, I will gag you and do what I need to do myself.”

Dean shrugged.  Fair points all around.  He leaned back down and kissed the maybe no longer future priest? in his arms.  He settled his body on top of Castiel’s, but they didn’t immediately rush into something quick and dirty.  They were content to kiss and run their hands over the other’s body and through his hair.  It felt good to know their physical connection was just as satisfying as their intellectual and emotional connection. 

Dean eventually pulled away from Castiel’s beautiful lips so he could take a breather, and he kissed his way down Castiel’s jaw to his neck, and then around to the front of his throat.  He paused when he felt cloth and plastic and opened his eyes.  The clerical collar was stark white against the black clothes and deep tan of Castiel’s skin. 

Castiel’s hands came up and he unbuttoned the collar in the back, and then pulled the white tab out.  He set it carefully on the nightstand, and then pulled Dean back down for a kiss. 

~~~ 

For over two weeks, Castiel and Dean lived together.  Castiel borrowed Dean’s clothes and Dean felt irrationally prideful and possessive to see his shirts sit a little too big on the man’s shoulders.  Castiel visited Dean’s work at the veterinary office, and Dean took time off to show Castiel all the DC landmarks. They ate every meal together and talked about everything from political theory to religious philosophy to why Dr. Sexy was risking his relationship with Dr. Wang for an illicit tryst with Dr. Piccolo.  They made love nearly every free moment in between. 

Then one Monday morning, after Dean had gotten his lunch out of the refrigerator and was headed for the door, he found Castiel waiting for him. He was dressed in his clerical clothing and had his small bag packed by his side. Dean stopped mid-stride and stared at the bag.  Then he looked up to Castiel’s face and knew that his eyes were wide with disbelief. 

“I have to go back, Dean.  I don’t know if thanking you for our time together will make you resentful, but thank you.  For everything you’ve given me.  For everything you’ve helped me to learn about myself.  But…I still feel that I need to return to God’s service.” 

Dean nodded numbly.  Clearly nothing he could say was going to change his mind.  Dean knew him well enough by now to see the resolution in his eyes. He stepped forward, but then stopped.  He felt lost.  Utterly adrift on an endless ocean as the horizon grew darker and heavier with storm clouds. 

“Do you need a ride to the metro?” 

“No.  I called a cab to take me to the airport.  My mentor at seminary bought me a plane ticket home.” 

Dean knew that Castiel had logged onto his computer once or twice, but he hadn’t known he’d been in contact with anyone from the seminary school.  He wondered how much Castiel had shared with them.  He wondered how much of Castiel’s sudden need to return to God’s service was his own idea. 

“Okay.” 

Castiel opened the door, and then turned back. 

“Dean, I…” 

Dean shook his head.  “It’s probably best if we don’t say anything.” 

Castiel nodded.  Dean stepped forward, intending to give him one last kiss—or take one last kiss from him, whatever.  But, seeing the collar back in place stopped him.  Castiel wasn’t his anymore.  He did step forward for a hug.  And then he thought that friends were allowed to kiss each other on the cheek.  So he pulled back enough to press his lips to Castiel’s cheek…well, closer to the corner of his mouth than his cheek. Castiel inhaled sharply. 

“Dean…” 

Then Cas pulled back and walked out the door.  Dean pushed it closed gently, and then he turned and walked to his couch.  He sat in the sagging middle.  He needed to get up and go to work.  Someone was bringing their parakeet in because he’d stopped eating.  Someone needed his help.  He continued to sit on the couch and stare at his blank TV screen. 

~~~ 

Jess and Sam exchanged looks again.  Dean was getting annoyed with them. 

“What?” he finally asked, irritation drenching his voice. 

“Nothing, Dean,” Jess said.  “We’re just…worried about you.  You’ve been so mopey.” 

“For weeks, Dean.  Hell, months. You’ve been weird ever since that priest-in-training left.” 

“Do you have a fucking point?” 

Sam sat back in his chair and took a sip of his beer.  The fettucine alfredo Jess had made was growing cold on Dean’s plate. 

“Dean,” Jess said gently, but firmly.  “It’s been long enough that you have to do something about it.  Either get over it or…confront it or something.  You can’t just allow it to drag you down forever.” 

Dean looked up at his brother and probably future sister-in-law. He nodded his head. 

“You’re right.” 

He stood up and left the table.  Sam watched Dean tromp off to his bedroom. Jess looked at Sam with panic in her eyes. 

“I’m sorry.  I overstepped.  I shouldn’t have said anything.  Do you think he’s okay?” 

“He’s fine.  And you didn’t say anything he didn’t need to hear.” 

“I know, but…he just suddenly had this wild look in his eye. You don’t think—” 

They stopped talking when Dean tromped out of his room and into the bathroom.  There was some rattling and the medicine cabinet banged opened and shut.  And then Dean walked past them with a bag in his hand. He picked up his keys and wallet from the table by the door and Sam jumped to his feet in alarm. 

“Dean!  Where are you going?” 

“To confront it.  I’m going to California.  Redding is in California, right?  The top part?” 

Dean started out the door and Sam ran after him. 

“Dude, you’re going to _drive_ to _California_ for some guy you knew for a couple of weeks?  What about work?” 

“Garth can handle it.  Lock the place up when you leave, Sammy.  I’ll call you from the road.” 

~~~ 

It took just under two and a half days for Dean to drive across country because he only slept twice for four hours and drove through the nights. It might have even taken a shorter amount of time, but he had to stop about every five hours to gas up.  The Impala really was not meant for long distance trips. If he didn’t want to have to start putting in shitty modern parts to meet new environmental laws coming out, he was going to have to apply for antique tags.  The poor thing. 

It was a Wednesday afternoon when he pulled up outside the Immaculate Conception Apostolic School.  It didn’t look like a gothic cathedral, which was what he had been imagining for most of the road trip, but it didn’t look much like a college campus either.  There was one large concrete building that looked vaguely prison-ish, and beside it was a large cathedral that was decidedly ordinary in appearance aside from the rows of stained glass windows. 

He sat in front of the school for a while.  He wasn’t sure how he would find Castiel.  He knew he lived on campus, but he didn’t have his room number and he didn’t know if he was in class or not.  Eventually, he parked and walked up to the building.  The doors required a card key to get in, and he was politely rebuffed by an elderly woman who told him that he could not come in unless he was a student or escorted by a student. 

Dean used all his charms on the woman, but nothing swayed her. Dean left the school frustrated and decided to try the cathedral.  They couldn’t keep him out of there.  Maybe someone knew Castiel.  Or hell, maybe Castiel was inside praying or something. 

Inside the cathedral it was dark and cool.  The stained glass on the windows was so dark that even on bright days he suspected not much light shone through.  The windows depicted a lot of the more violent and bloodier stories from the _Bible_.  The work was beautiful, but not exactly cheery. 

“Hello, my son.  What brings you to our cathedral today?” 

Dean turned away from a window and saw a kindly looking middle aged man in clerical garb. 

“Uh, hi.  I was, uh, lookin’ for someone.” 

“Someone who has passed on?” 

“What?  Oh, no. Nothing like that.  Just a person.  Who goes to school here.” 

“What’s his name?  Perhaps I can direct you to him.” 

“Castiel.  Castiel Novak.” 

“Ah.”  The man’s demeanor changed, but he remained friendly.  “Castiel is actually in seclusion.  By his own request.  He cannot see anyone and is studying for his final exams.” 

“O-oh.  Does everyone seclude themselves for exams?” 

“No.  In fact, Castiel has been in seclusion for nearly eight months now.” 

Dean swallowed.  “Has he said why?” 

“He spent a long time in confession when he first came back. Confession between a priest and confessor is always held in the strictest confidence.  Of course, since I can probably guess that your name is Dean, I rather imagine you know what some of his confessions entailed.” 

Dean flushed and looked at the floor.  Hopefully Castiel hadn’t been graphic with his confessions.  They had definitely gotten down and dirty in some places they definitely shouldn’t have. 

“Would you wait here a moment, Dean?” 

“Sure.” 

Dean slunk into a pew and slumped down low in it.  He wondered if the priest was going to fetch his supplies so he could exorcise the gay out of Dean or something.  Ten very long minutes passed in which Dean regretted ever stepping outside of his apartment three days ago.  Hell, he regretted making that post on Airbnb. 

“Hello, Dean.” 

Dean looked up.  Castiel sat in the pew in front of him, turned partially so that he could rest his arms on the back of it and look at him.  He was in a crisp, new black shirt—the white collar flashily catching his eye.  Despite himself, Dean felt happy to see Castiel’s solemn face, the barest hint of a smile on his lips. 

“Heya, Cas.” 

“You’re here.” 

“I am.” 

“Why?” 

“I’m sure you can guess.” 

Castiel licked his lips and dropped his eyes.  Then he raised them again and held Dean’s gaze steadily. 

“I’ve spent over seven months in seclusion, trying to hear God speak to me again.  For the longest time, I thought he had abandoned me for sinning while I was in DC.  For turning my back on him.” 

Dean inhaled a shuddery breath.  Fuck.  His chest hurt. 

“Then I finally realized that God had simply stopped calling to me.  Because…someone else was calling out to me.  And it was through God that I was able to hear that voice.  It was telling me to wait.  I couldn’t understand what for.  After all, there’s nothing here for me anymore.  Why would I wait here?”  Castiel smiled and held out a hand.  “I see now what I was waiting for.” 

Dean scoffed to fight back the tears.  “God wanted me to blow over four hundred dollars on gas while you just sat on your butt waiting for me?” 

“You drove?  Why didn’t you fly?” 

“Not important.” 

Dean reached out and took Castiel’s hand.  He focused on the long, elegant fingers so that he could get his traitorous eyes under control. 

“So,” Dean said, fairly proud that his voice wasn’t cracking, “I guess you can be my Maria or something.”

Castiel smiled and leaned on the back of the pew, his hand clenching tightly around Dean’s. 

“Did you just make a _Sound of Music_ reference?”

 “ _No_.”

 Castiel grinned.  “Tell me now what you believe in, Dean.”

 “I believe in you.  And if that’s not good enough for God, well then fuck Him right in the a—”  Dean cut off as the kindly priest from before shot him the stink eye from three pews down in the next aisle.  “S-sorry,” he stuttered.  He glanced up the ceiling.  “Sorry,” he whispered. 

Castiel chuckled and raised Dean’s hand to his lips to place a kiss on his knuckles.  “It’s okay, Dean.  Even if you don’t believe in Him, I know that God believes in you.”


End file.
